


First Love

by Rose_Morgan



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:27:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24268153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_Morgan/pseuds/Rose_Morgan
Summary: You never forget your first love
Relationships: Logan (X-Men)/Original Female Character
Kudos: 7





	First Love

**Author's Note:**

> OC's name is Leila Miller, but she was born Yuèliang Hŭ/Yueliang Hu

Mei Hu shook her head at the slightly older woman who sat across from her, and set the tea mug down on the coaster. “I don’t understand you, Yuèliang.” she said, brow furrowed in bemusement. “ _Why_ do you keep going after this guy? He’s unreliable, and he’s proven that time and time again.” 

Leila sighed and looked down at the tea floating in her own mug. “You wouldn’t understand, Mei.” she replied, rubbing the side of the cup with an index finger. “And it’s ‘Leila’, not Yuèliang.” 

“Try me.” Mei challenged, bringing the cup to her lips and taking a long sip. 

“No. I’m telling you, you won’t understand.” Leila insisted, withdrawing her hands and placing them in her lap. 

Mei scoffed. “Leila, I’m not an idiot. I know part of it has to do with the fact that you love him.”

“It’s not _just_ that I love him.” Leila remarked quietly, leaning back in her chair. She twisted her wedding ring — a small gold band encrusted with tiny diamonds — and looked down at a larger ring that hung on a chain around her neck. This one was also gold, but plain and simple, which was typical for a man’s. 

Mei studied her sister for a long moment. Yuèliang — or Leila, as she was now called — had never been easy to read, and as the years went by it got harder, but Mei somehow always managed to find the crack in the woman’s impressive facade. This time, however, she almost didn’t. “He was everything to you.” Mei realized, leaning back in her own chair, tea mug in hand. 

“He _is_ everything to me.” Leila corrected, returning her hands to her lap. “He always will be.” 

“He doesn’t _remember_ you, Leila.” Mei said, setting her mug back on the coaster and folding her hands on the table. “He doesn’t remember _anything_.” 

“That doesn’t matter!” Leila slammed her hands down on the table, rattling the teacups and startling her sister. “I don’t care if he doesn’t remember me! All that matters is that _I_ remember _him!”_

“Yue? What was that noise?” Li Hu’s voice floated into the living room from the kitchen, and he poked his head around the doorway. 

“Nothing, _Bàba_.” Leila replied, offering him a pleasant smile, though Mei could tell it was forced. 

“You didn’t break anything, did you?” Li asked, more concerned about his valuables than anything else.

“No, Dad, she didn’t.” Mei answered, wiping up tea droplets from the table with a napkin.

“Good. That tea set is expensive, you know.” Li said, ducking back into the kitchen.

“Yes, Dad, I know.” Leila sighed, sinking back into her chair. 

The two women drank their tea in silence for a few minutes, each processing the previous conversation. Mei had never seen Leila so passionate before, especially not about men. She’d hardly given them the time of day, in fact. It was always school or chores or family. At least, it had been that way until she’d enlisted in the Army Nurse Corps and gone to Vietnam. After that, she was different. She was more alive, ironically. Something had changed her while she was over there. Or rather, _someone_. 

Leila had been gazing at a pair of old dog tags for a minute or so, reading the name and ID number over and over, her mind clearly in the past. She’d worn them around her neck for almost thirty years, ever since her husband had thrown them on the ground in the middle of a razed African village, back in 1973. He’d been fed up with their team leader, and wanted a fresh start, so he’d rid himself of the last thing he had from his old life. She’d been selfish when she'd picked up the tags and put them around her neck. She knew how much he wanted a new life, and they’d started one together, but she couldn’t bear to abandon those tags the way he had. Perhaps the selfish action had stemmed from a fear that they’d get separated one day, and the tags would be all she had left of him, or perhaps she wasn’t capable of letting go of the past like he was. Either way, thirty years later, they were still all she really had of him — all she had of that life. Otherwise, it was just memories. 

Mei pursed her lips and set the almost-empty tea mug on the table, then folded her hands on the placemat. “Leila, it’s been almost twenty-five years. You _have_ to move on. ” 

“I _can’t_.” Leila closed her hand around the dog tags, short fingernails pressing into her palm. 

“Yes, you _can_. You just don’t want to.” 

Leila shook her head and wrapped the other hand around the wedding ring that hung from the chain around her neck, clutching it tightly. “No, Mei, I can’t.” she insisted, anguish on her face. 

“Fine, I’ll bite. Why can’t you?”

“He was my first, Mei.” 

“Your first _time_?” Mei assumed, and scoffed at how ridiculous her sister was being. “Really, Leila? You’re stuck on this guy because he’s the first person you had _sex_ with?”

“No, Mei. I’m ‘stuck on’ him because he was my first _everything_.” Leila clarified, her tone sharper. “My first boyfriend, my first kiss, my first time, my first _love_.” she elaborated, turning his ring over in her fingers. “He’s also my only.” 

“For _all_ of those things?”

“Yes.” Leila nodded, placing the dog tags next to her mug. 

Mei could only blink. She couldn't believe her sister had only been with _one_ man, and that he had made this kind of impact on her. “You’re telling me you’ve been single _by choice_ for almost _twenty-five years?”_

Leila drummed her fingers on the table and gave her sister a slightly irritated look. “I’m not ‘single by choice’, Mei. I’m married. I have a husband.” 

“That’s bullshit, Leila. You guys haven’t been together for decades.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that we’re still married.” 

“How many women do you think he’s been with since you two last saw each other? I’m betting at least forty.” Mei challenged, setting her mug aside and leaning forward in her chair. 

“And?” 

“You’re not obligated to stay with him, Leila. You don’t owe him anything.” Mei said, her frustration turning into something akin to sympathy. She knew what sort of mindset Leila had been raised with, though she would’ve expected it to have changed by now. After all, Leila hadn’t lived with her mother since she was eighteen. “I know your mom probably said otherwise, but she’s wrong.”

Leila flashed a wry smile. “My mother doesn’t even know I married him. But if she did, you’d be right.” she replied, picking up the dog tags and sliding them over her head. “More or less.” she added, adjusting the clasp so it rested on the back of her neck. “But I’m not staying with him because I feel obligated or because I feel as if I owe him something. I’m staying with him because I love him.”

“He's just _one_ guy, Leila.” Mei argued, picking up a red bean bun with her chopsticks and biting into it. 

“Yes, he’s _the_ one.” Leila insisted, raising her mug to her lips and taking a sip. 

“How on earth would you know that? You’ve never dated anyone else to prove otherwise.”

Leila shook her head and placed the cup back on the table. “That’s not true. I’ve _tried_ to date other people over the years, but every time I looked at them, all I could see was him.”

“You're obsessed, and you need help.” Mei decided, pouring herself more tea. 

Leila shrugged, dismissing Mei’s insult. “You never forget your first love. No matter what happens, or where life takes you, you never forget.” 

Mei groaned and hung her head in defeat. “Alright, I give up.” she sighed, withdrawing her hands from the table and placing them in her lap. “You’re going to be in love with this one guy for the rest of your life — however long that is — no matter what he does.” 

Leila laughed quietly at her sister’s reaction. “That’s correct.” she said, turning the dog tag over in her fingers. “I appreciate how hard you tried to convince me otherwise, though.” 

Mei sighed and picked up her tea, which had gone from scalding to warm. “I just can’t believe you’re okay with letting him break your heart over and over like this.”

“He hasn't broken my heart, Mei.” Leila sighed, also picking up a red bean bun. “If anything, I’m the one that broke his.”

“But Dad said–”

“Okay, you _really_ need to stop listening to Dad when he talks about that period of my life, because he has no idea what actually happened, and he never will.” Leila placed her chopsticks down on the small plate and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Now, can we talk about something else?”

Mei opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the doorbell, which rang loudly throughout the house. The two women looked at each other, brows furrowed in confusion, and moved to get up. “Were you expecting anyone?” Mei asked, tucking her chair in. 

“No. Were you?” Leila replied, pulling on her cardigan. 

“No.” 

“Don’t be so suspicious, you two. It could just be a girl scout or something.” Li rolled his eyes as he walked over to the front door. 

“Dad, at least look through the peephole before you open the door.” Mei called.

“You worry too much.” Li replied, waving his hand dismissively. 

“Dad…”

“Pah!” Li shushed them with a scoff. “I’ve lived in this neighborhood since before you were born. It’s as safe as can be.” he added, and turned the knob, slowly opening the door. “Whatever you’re selling, we’re not buying, so go away.” Li addressed the person on the other side of the door even before they came into view, and the person snorted in amusement. 

“That’s good, ‘cause I’m not selling anything.”

Leila froze. _That voice. She knew that voice._

Li gazed at the man in annoyance. “What do you want, then, if not to sell us something?” 

“I want to speak to your daughter.” 

“Which one? I have two.” 

The visitor smiled wryly at the older man, and took a step forward, placing a hand higher up on the door. “You know which one, Mr. Hu. Now, can I see her?”

“No. You’ll just break her heart again.” Li replied, finally acknowledging that he was familiar with the visitor. “And besides, she doesn’t want to see you.” he started to close the door on the other man, but the latter stuck his foot out, causing the wood to hit his shoe instead. 

“Somehow, I doubt that.” the man replied, holding the door firmly in place. 

“Logan?” 

Both Li and the visitor — Logan — looked over at Leila when she spoke, though they had very different expressions. Li was wearing a disapproving scowl, while Logan was smiling warmly. 

“What are you doing here?” Leila asked, slowly walking over to them. Her astonished expression was paired with a smile, indicating that while she was surprised to see him, she was very happy. 

“I'm here to see you.” Logan answered, and took half a step back when she came up to the door. “I hope that's okay.” 

“No, it's not. Go away.” Li snapped, making a shooing gesture with his hand.

“With all due respect, sir, I wasn't talking to you.” Logan said, giving the older man a look. 

“Yeah, of course. Come in.” Leila replied, pulling the door open all the way. She did so with caution, as her father was still holding onto the piece of wood. 

“Dad, close the door.” Mei sighed, leaning against the side of a living room bookcase. 

“Maybe if I hold it open long enough, the draft will make him leave.” Li said, though he knew that was wistful thinking. 

_“Dad.”_

“Fine, fine. I'll close it.” 

“Thank you.” 

Leila led Logan into the kitchen and away from her family, wanting to talk in private. “How did you find me?” she asked, taking a seat at the table. 

“I asked Charles for your address.” Logan answered, sitting down next to her. “I knew you lived in Jackson Heights with your father, but I didn’t know the specifics.” he explained, folding his hands on the table. “Sorry.”

Leila placed her hand on his arm and offered a kind smile. “You don’t need to be sorry. After all, I never told you my address.” she said, stroking the skin with his thumb.

“You didn’t?” 

“No, I didn’t.” Leila said, running her hand up and down his arm. “My living situation has changed a lot over the years, and I only moved into this house once I started working at the school.” 

“I see.” 

Leila cocked her head at his short reply, and paused the movement of her hand, letting it still at the top of his shoulder. “What is it?” she asked, sensing that he had something on his mind. 

Logan rubbed his knuckles — something he did when he was nervous — and released a quiet sigh. “You told me a while ago that we used to be a couple, and that I was your first for everything.” he began, looking down his hands, which were curled into relaxed fists. “Bit by bit, piece by piece, I started to remember things about you, and about us.” Logan continued, finally looking over at her. “I remembered how much I loved you, and how much you meant to me.”

Leila placed her other hand over both of his, and her thumb stroked the skin of one slowly. “I'm glad you remember.” she whispered, looking at him with soft brown eyes. 

“Me too.” Logan said quietly, a small smile on his lips. “I'm glad my heart remembered, even if my mind didn't.”

Leila returned his smile, the hand on the top of his shoulder moving down to his back. “What do you want to do now?” she asked, beginning to rub his back slowly. “Now that you remember.”

Logan shifted in his seat so he was sideways in the chair, and slid his hands out from under hers. “I don’t deserve you, Leila.” he said, folding his hands in his lap. “You’re a good person, and I’m…” 

“You’re a good person too.” Leila said, placing her hand over one of his and giving it a squeeze. “More than that, you’re a good _man_.”

“If you knew how much blood I have on my hands, you wouldn’t be saying that.” Logan said, hunching his shoulders and bowing his head.

“I _do_ know how much blood is on your hands, Logan. I’ve always known.” Leila lifted her hand from his and reached under her shirt, pulling out the dog tags. “I wouldn’t have kept these for thirty years if I didn’t think you were a good person.”

Logan raised his head when he heard the clinking of metal, and furrowed his brow when he saw the tags. “Are those my old ones?” 

“Yes.” Leila answered, and pulled the chain over her head with one hand. She lay them on the table so he could study them, and placed her free hand on his knee, thumb rubbing the rough fabric of his jeans. “James Logan Howlett was your birth name. You changed it to Logan in the early ‘70s.” 

“What wars did I serve in?” Logan asked, turning the tags over in his fingers. 

“The American Civil War, World War I, World War II, and the Vietnam War.” Leila answered, watching something akin to guilt wash over his features. “You were always one of the good guys.” she added, pausing the hand on his knee and beginning to rub his back. 

“I don’t remember how I met you. I just remember the hotel.” Logan mused, placing the tags back on the table. 

“Pardon?” 

“There was a hotel we stayed at — I don’t remember _where_ it was — and we shared a room.” Logan began. The images of the hotel were fuzzy, but the memory of Leila was clear as day. “We talked on the balcony for a while, and then we went inside to get ready for bed. You had a black nightgown on — I think — and you were laying on the bed muttering to yourself about something. Given the context, it was probably about me.” the man continued, smiling a bit at the memory. “You asked me about my scars — scars that no one else noticed — and if they hurt.” 

“I knew they did.” Leila said softly, moving her hand from knee to his forearm. 

“Yeah, they did.” Logan agreed, placing his hand over the one she had on his arm. They sat in silence for a long moment, and he stroked the side of her hand with his thumb while she rubbed his back. “I fell in love with you that night.” he admitted, interlacing their fingers. “I ignored my instincts, which were screaming at me to run, to push you away. I ignored what I really was –– an animal. I suppressed all my defense mechanisms, which activated whenever you got too close to a truth that I tried hard to keep hidden.” Logan continued, his free hand resting on his leg. “I’m about to do all of that again, right now, because I still love you, and I want to be with you, if you’ll still have me.”

Leila was close to tears by the time he finished. She hadn’t expected any of this from him. It felt so unreal, like something out of a dream. But it wasn’t. He really was sitting next to her and telling her that he loved her. “Logan…” Leila blinked back tears that had just started to form on her lash line, and moved the hand from his back to his face. “You really remembered.” 

“Yeah, of course I did.” Logan said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear with his free hand. “Nothing could make me forget you, not even amnesia.”

Leila let out a soft laugh. “You know that’s an oxymoron, right?”

“I don’t care what it is.” Logan said, smiling at the sound of her laugh. “All that matters is that I never forgot you, because how could anyone forget their first love?” 

“I don’t know, ‘cause I never did.” Leila smiled, her brown eyes full of warmth and affection.

“So, you’ll have me?” Logan asked, a hopeful look in his eyes. 

“Always.” Leila said, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “I love you, Logan.” 

“I love you too, Leila.” Logan replied, and released her hand so he could cup her face with both of his. “Always.”


End file.
